


Sweet Repentance

by rabiddog



Series: DSMP [14]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Blood and Gore, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Character Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:41:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabiddog/pseuds/rabiddog
Summary: Perhaps Tommy should have told Phil about his arguably life-threatening injury the minute his father had opened the door. But of course, Tommy being Tommy, did not.Dying seemed like a nice enough option as long as he was with his family.-Tommy just wanted acceptance, forgiveness, and peace. He wanted to close his eyes for the last time and finally be able to let go.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: DSMP [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079465
Comments: 39
Kudos: 971
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Sweet Repentance

Phil's gaze was eerily blank as he stared down at Tommy, grey orbs filled with flecks of forest green, sparkling golds, and tantalizing sage, and yet appeared to hold little to no emotion. Not even a tiny, minuscule hint of remorse or flushing anger. 

He just seemed tired; that was all that Tommy was able to pull away from his (estranged) father's stony expression - tired with the world? With his life? With the blonde teenager stood on his doorstep? Perhaps all, or perhaps none. 

Tommy couldn't really tell. 

"Phil, please-" 

"Techno won't like you being here, Tommy. You know his stance on the government and how you still sided with them after everything." 

Phil blinked, a sigh rumbling from the older man's lips, leaving his breath in a puff of warm air. A calloused hand shifted a green and white striped hat, pushing it a little further over blonde and braided locks. "You betrayed him. He isn't exactly happy." 

"I know that," Tommy replied quickly, careful licks of defiance rolling over his softly woven words and imbedding themselves deeply. "But- But I have nowhere else to go. I have... I can't just leave, Phil." 

He'd spent so long tumbling through a glacial tundra, shifting his soaked boots through copious amounts of heavy snowfall and thundering along even as icy wind and sharp hail whipped around his frost-bitten skin, pressing close into bruised flesh and clinging on tight. 

It had taken nights of uncontrollable shivering, clutching onto his ripped, thin clothing and huddling deep into monster-infested caves for even a mere hallucination of warmth, just to make it this far. Just to make it _home_. 

Tommy had put so much effort into making sure he made it back to Technoblade's cabin; he couldn't just leave. Not yet, at least. 

"Tommy..." 

"Just for a few hours. Just to warm up." 

There was a brief pause, a flash of heavy silence that soaked the pair. Phil looked like he wanted to protest vividly, though he eventually decided against it. 

"Technoblade isn't going to like this." 

That wasn't a no. 

A grin began to pull at Tommy's dry lips, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides, and he nodded. "I know. But- but I'll only be here for a little bit. I might not even still be here by the time he gets back." The teen's pleased expression morphed slightly into something darker. "Where is Techno, again?" 

Phil glanced off, peeling his eyes away from Tommy so he could stare out into the distant forest. "He's taking Ranboo out to collect wood, I think. At least, that's what he said." 

A jitter of hurt ran rampage through Tommy's veins, flushing through his body and piercing directly into his aching heart. 

_Ranboo_. Of course. 

As much as Tommy wanted to, and believe him, he really wanted to; he couldn't exactly blame the other teen for growing closer to _Tommy's_ brother. The two made a good pair, after all. (Though, then again, even that didn't help to reduce the sting that had begun to plague over the blonde's sensitive skin.) 

"Oh." He pushed out instead of all of the other negative comments brewing on the tip of his flicking tongue. "That's good. Good for them, I guess." 

Phil nodded, gaze just a little more calculating than before as he regarded Tommy. "I guess you can come in then. Just don't steal anything, or touch anything, or-" 

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, thank you, big man." 

Tommy carefully brushed past his father as Phil held the spruce door open a little further, his whole body seemingly relaxing into a mushy puddle as soon as he made it to the bear-skin rug laid out in front of a roaring fire. Warmth had never felt so good before. Tommy had never been more grateful for a simple pile of burning logs. 

After spending so long alone and cold, even the heat that radiated from the nearby stove was enough to have Tommy _melting_. 

"Do you, uh..." Phil swallowed roughly, turning away from the (now closed) door and letting his contemplative stare drag over Tommy's still shivering body. "Do you want something to drink? Tea, maybe?" 

"Tea would be nice, thank you." 

Tommy's response was short and to the point - avoidance of all of the usual babbling he would've given under practically any other circumstance. _" Ohh, tea, for little old me? How generous of you, Phil! Kindest man in the world, you are!"_

Truthfully, Tommy just didn't have the energy for keeping up that sort of talk anymore. Who knew that a death-sentence of an injury could be so critically life-altering? 

As if sensing that Tommy was suddenly thinking of it, the large, jagged wound on his side began to fester and snarl, a blazing fever emanating from the bleeding, gory trauma as oozing puss and leaking crimson bubbled from around the inflamed edges. 

His hand instinctively went to press against it – as if that would somehow alleviate his all-consuming pain – though he just barely managed to stop himself, an indented palm hovering over messy, torn bandages and poorly done stitches. 

Stitches that had ripped open the moment Tommy had tried to make it through the snow without falling over at least once. 

A hiss slipped through clenched teeth, and Tommy made sure to pull his shirt down a tad more. He could do little to properly hide the bloodstains, hide the discharge marks, and the infected stench, but he could definitely try. 

See, his plan – his original plan, at least – hadn't actually been him making the long, winding trip towards Technoblade's home, with his body breaking down and his life sliding through the gaps between his fingers like fine sand. He'd initially intended on making it to Snowchester to ask for Tubbo's much-needed help. 

But then Tommy had hit a fork in the road, a split, a choice. Techno or Tubbo. He had to make his decision. 

Technoblade was further, just by a small amount, but there was a higher guarantee that he (or somebody else, like Phil or Ranboo) would be there to hear Tommy repent. In contrast, Tubbo's actual location was always a little finicky. And truthfully? Tommy didn't know if he had the energy to make it to Snowchester in the end. 

Dying in his older brother's home sounded far nicer than losing his life at the outskirts of Snowchester's sanctuary – alone. 

Because Tommy really _was_ dying. 

The realisation had hit him quite vividly as he was stumbling around a murky, dark plains biome, his feet tripping over one another and his eyes brewing with unshed waves of tears. He hadn't even really known what had hit him – or _who_ had hit him – he just knew that his side was absolutely torn to shreds, and there was no coming back from it. 

At first, he'd tried to convince himself, as he tripped and floundered through moss and mud, that he'd be okay. That it was just a mild wound, and it would take a mere moment to patch it up. The reality had been quite obviously worse than that. 

(Worse enough that trembling fingers had been forced to attempt to stitch up an infected mess of gore, hiccups rocking a sobbing body and blood streaking down, down, down.) 

Tommy swallowed roughly at the painful memory, his eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to swat away any of the growing tears bubbling towards his ducts. It was practically nothing compared to the times he'd died previously – slaughtered inside of an encompassing control room, pierced through the heart by Dream's deadly arrow, but still. 

This- this third and final death seemed worse somehow. 

"Hey, mate. Here's the tea." 

Phil held out a steaming mug of the heated beverage, a tight smile pulling at his lips as he attempted at least a vaguely friendly conversation. He seemed tense, tense enough that Tommy almost felt guilty for barging in on his father's presumably 'day off.' (Though a part of him knew that if Phil _really_ wanted him gone, he would be in an instance.) 

"Thanks, d- Phil. Thanks, Phil." Tommy nodded in reply, letting calloused fingers wrap around the handle as he pulled the drink close. 

It smelt nice. Hints of a fresh vegetation and the curling mist of a green leaf invading Tommy's waiting nostrils. It was also unnervingly familiar – clearly, the type of tea that Phil had used to make him, Wilbur, and Techno before bed. Back during times when they still all lived together, when they were still a close-knit family. 

Those times had been good. Great, even. 

But now they were gone.

"No problem." Phil nodded, holding his own mug as he settled down on a plush seat adjacent to Tommy's position. He took a sip. "So... how are you? How have you been?" 

The 'after what happened during Doomsday' went unsaid. 

"Okay, I think," Tommy shrugged lightly, pointedly ignoring the fevered shiver that ran through him from the tiny movement. "Just... trying to make amends with people." 

Phil hummed. "How's that going then?" 

"Ah... Not well." 

A small, almost minuscule smile cracked across Phil's usually blank mask of expression, the corners of his lips quirking, and his eyes shimmered momentarily. "No?" 

"Uh-uh." Tommy shook his head. "Everyone's been a little... distant, I guess. I haven't seen Eret and Fundy in a while, and I'm pretty sure Niki and Jack have been collectively trying to kill me. So, there's that." 

"Hm. What about Tubbo?" 

Tommy's fingers dug into the heated mug, his gaze downcast. "He's usually with uhm, with Ranboo these days. I don't know." 

"Oh."

"Yeah." 

Silence seemed to drift between them then, curling over their shoulders and dipping into hidden crevices. It appeared awkward – but also not at all, in a way. It was like it was what was needed to make the situation just a tad less strained. 

"I'm okay, though, in the end. It doesn't matter." Tommy's eyes raised to meet his father's. "How have you been?" 

Phil clicked his tongue. "I've been good, truly. Better now that the government has ended and L'Manburg is pretty much all gone. It's a lot more peaceful here too, and I think Techno is really enjoying his new retirement away from it all. I'm almost certain that he's actually planning on staying in this one, surprisingly-..." 

Tommy tried desperately to keep up with what Phil was saying, with what he was admitting and the whole, shuddering normalcy of the situation, but it was growing harder and harder with each passing second. 

The fever was really kicking in, rapidly spreading its way through Tommy's racing, surging blood and licking over his sweating skin. Salty rivulets dribbled down the side of his bruised face, soaking into a jagged, frayed neckline and sticking between the different layers. 

Sure, it could have easily been passed off as merely a result of the roaring fire he was curled up beside, but Tommy knew better. Tommy knew that he'd let his wound fester and weep for far too long, and now he was reaping the consequences. 

Maybe he should have done better. Should have tried harder to look after it, should have- should have told somebody, gone to Snowchester for Tubbo instead of heading to a place that was full of people who hated him. Perhaps he should have... 

_"Tommy? Mate, are you alright? You're looking a little pale-"_

There wasn't precisely concern evident in Phil's voice, but there was _something_ , and it was making Tommy's stomach churn with both nausea and intense discomfort. 

Maybe he should have told Phil the moment the Avian had opened up the cabin door. Tommy should have pushed away at his pride, pushed away at the need to stay independent and strong on his own terms, pushed away the stupid, stupid idea of visiting his estranged family one last time before he died for good. 

Ghostbur was nowhere to be found, Techno was out with his _new brother_ and Tommy... Tommy was left with Phil – somebody who had made it vividly clear that he hated the teen's guts anyways. So, what was the point? What was the point? 

_"Oi-"_

No, no. He knew the point. He'd known ever since he'd made his decision as he'd stumbled across the two, similar paths. 

To his right, it had been a chance of recovery. A small, minuscule chance of being wrapped up in his (supposedly) best friend's arms and nestling in as the shorter - though older - boy took care of him. It was a chance to start his life again after such destruction and misery. 

But in the end, Tommy hadn't really wanted that, had he? It would be too much, too much hassle, too much energy, too much effort that he just didn't have anymore. Tommy just wanted acceptance, forgiveness, and peace. He wanted to close his eyes for a final time, preferably near his birth family (no matter how much they hated him), and let go. 

So, he'd made the ultimate decision to go towards his brother the moment that he'd accepted his oncoming death. That was why. 

"Tommy!" 

Large hands dropped down onto Tommy's tensed shoulders, jolting the pyretic teen from his bumbling, whispering thoughts. He glanced upwards, tongue heavy and throat feeling far too dry to produce proper noise. 

"P-Phil-" 

The front door swung open with an echoing bang. 

"Phil! I'm finally home!" Technoblade's voice shot out into the cabin, filling it nicely and bouncing off of the walls, "I brought the wood to renovate next door! After that mess of a building that Tommy had decided to oh-so-kindly leave for us, I figured it would be easier if we just changed it up a little. Completely redo it. What do you-" 

The cheerful (or at least cheerful for Technoblade) tone of voice completely cut off as the Piglin hybrid step foot into his open living room. Dark, beady eyes narrowed into formidable slits, and uncontrollable anger began pouring from light pink skin in furious, turbulent waves. 

"Phil," A surprisingly calm undertone had taken control of Technoblade's vocals, despite the rage still residing over his thunderous expression, "What is _he_ doing here?" 

The Avian swallowed, glancing between his two sons. "Techno. He just said that he needed to warm up. Wouldn't leave the doorstep and, y'know, I couldn't just turn-" 

"You also know exactly what he did to us," Technoblade interrupted with a sharp hiss, "To _me_. You know what he did, and yet you still invite him into my home? After everything that happened?" 

“I didn’t exactly _invite_ him in-” 

" _Phil_!" 

" _Techno_! I promise he wasn't going to stay. He just needed to warm up, that was all." Phil's gaze shot down to the blonde, his grip on - his son - tightening. "Right, Tommy?" 

Tommy felt as if he was floating between the delicate border of unconsciousness and consciousness. His form a weightless entity as he swooped and dived, completely losing himself within the encompassing white walls of a clandestine heaven that promised serenity and peace.

(Up, up, up... the world above was begging for him to let go one final time.) 

Tendrils of an aching crimson - the colour in stark contrast to the previous white - wormed their way past his cracked lips, collapsing over the edge and down onto his quivering chin. A part of him wanted to lick it away, to forcefully push away at the unwanted iron, but it was as if his tongue wasn't cooperating at all. 

It was almost as if none of his limbs were cooperating at all at that point, really. The only thing left properly working was his racing, wailing mind. 

_"Just tell them!" "They can help!" "Show them the wound!"_

The wound that was now inevitably causing his death - a death soon to come. Too soon, perhaps.

"Tommy?" 

Maybe he was actually okay with dying now. Sure, he didn't have the needed strength within him to even attempt to make the grand 'death' speech he'd had initially planned, but it was okay. Perhaps his baby-blues could adequately express the desperate emotions he was trying to get across to forgotten family. (Unbeknownst to Tommy, his eyes had long since shut.) 

He just hoped that Phil and Techno would accept his unwillingly unspoken apology. He wanted them to know that they were right and that he should have listened to them from the start. He should have believed his family before anyone else. 

Tommy wanted Tubbo to be okay, too, actually. Of course, he had Ranboo there now, so the loss of his ex-best-friend shouldn't be too hard, but still. Tubbo – he could; he could be pretty emotional sometimes. 

"Tommy-" _Phil was desperately pulling the almost lifeless body closer to him, panic and distress finally worming themselves over his crestfallen expression. What was happening? What was going on?_

Tommy didn't want anyone to cry over him. (Not that they would.) 

"-ommy." _Technoblade was there then, dropping to his knees with an eyebrow crease and downturned lips. His large hands scanned over the teen's form, catching over the loose and bloody bandages._

He'd done his part on the server. He was okay. He was ready to meet Wilbur again. 

"Tom-" _No matter how much they pleaded, no matter how much they begged and repented, the blonde wouldn't respond. Couldn't respond._

Tommy's lips closed around a final breath before stilling shut. 

_"Tommy?"_

**Author's Note:**

> CC: [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/rabiddogs)  
> Twitter: [Wilbyz](https://twitter.com/wiIbyz)


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